


To The Bitter End

by Destielixer



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destielixer/pseuds/Destielixer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is diagnosed with a terminal illness and Ian is there to watch over him. This fic takes place over a period of time that leads up to Mickey’s death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Bitter End

[SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC](http://gallaviction.tumblr.com/post/98454350270/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short-fic)

**44\. one of them being diagnosed with a terminal illness au**

**A/N: Okay I’m not really good with terminal illness aus because I’ll cry and all that but I gave it my best shot nonnie, so hopefully you like it! It doesn’t really mention what illness but I guess I’ll leave it all up to the reader. ~~I cried buckets of tears over this fic. I’m emotional af. Gonna go sit in a corner and cry now.~~**

Songs used:

  * [High Hopes - Kodaline](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbKcS9BN0wc)

  * [Not About Angels - Birdy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EalT6BjE8mo)




* * *

“You can’t be fucking serious! That doctor was a fake ass bogus fucking crap!” Mickey snarled as he swiped the things off the tabletop in a show of anger. “I’m not gonna fucking die, he’s a piece of shit is what he is! Motherfucker!” he whispered the last part as he finally sat down on the bed.

Ian chewed his lower lip as he looked at Mickey. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. The visit to the hospital had come away leaving him in a complete shock. He moved over to the raven and simply hugged him, pulling Mickey’s head to his chest.

“It’s okay…I’m gonna be here for you Mick, I’ll take care of you so don’t you fucking worry,” Ian said as he stroked Mickeys hair, feeling as his boyfriend wrapped his arms around him.

Mickey pressed his face into Ian’s body, hands trembling from the fear and the shock of it all. “I’m scared…” he whispered into Ian’s body, “I don’t want to die…”  
“Hey, hey look at me Mick,” Ian said as he pulled back gently tugging on the raven’s hair as he made Mickey look into his eyes, “We all gotta die some time…it’s…just…some people go earlier than others…” Ian said fighting to speak past the tightening in his throat, holding back the tears.

“That’s bullshit Gallagher,” Mickey muttered hands splayed against Ian’s back, stroking the redhead’s back, wanting to feel him, to cherish what little time they had left.

“At least we know that you’re a good person now,” Ian said with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Don’t gimme that good die young crap,” he answered, knowing this was the redhead trying to cheer him up. “So two months huh…I’m a goddamn time bomb…”

Ian smiled ruefully as he bent to press a kiss to Mickey’s forehead, “We’ll get through it together Mick, don’t worry.”

 _‘Yeah, we’ll get through it together but only one person would come out of this alive,’_ Mickey thought to himself.

* * *

In the week that passed since the visit to the hospital, Ian stayed up at night to research about how to get people with terminal illness to cope with it right to the end. The final stage of acceptance was a road that many people struggled to get to. Depression was one of the six stages…Ian sighed every page said the same damn thing. Rubbing at his tired eyes as he watched Mickey sleeping on his side of the bed.

He looked completely normal like this but inside…inside he was a goddamn festering zone for the sickness and it was slowly taking over him. Eating away at his brain. Ian hadn’t even realised that anything was wrong until he noticed Mickey constantly complaining about how tired he was and then that one time when he just collapsed all of a sudden.

He swallowed past the tightness growing in his throat, fingers clenching into tight fists. It’s unfair how things had to turn out like this. Just when he’d thought everything was back to normal, that everything was going to be fine.

“Cruel fucking world,” Ian snarled as he slammed the laptop shut and then crawled into bed behind Mickey, pulling his lover into his arms as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Mickey sighed in his sleep at that gesture and snuggled back into him. Ian’s heart clenched at the sight and he felt the tears burning in his eyes again. Fuck…he reached to drape an arm around Mickey, threading their fingers together. He didn’t want to let go of him, not now not ever.

“You’re gonna be alright Mick, you’re gonna be okay…”

* * *

Ian had only gone out to get some more adult diapers and medicine for Mickey. He hadn’t wanted to but on Mickey’s insistence he’d left.  _‘I can take care of myself okay!’_  he’d said.

He came back to a ransacked house Mandy was knocking on Mickey’s room door, “Mick, Mickey you have to open up!”

He dropped everything and ran up the stairs to confront Mandy, “What happened?” he asked.

“I-I…he…crapped his pants…I said it was alright and that I’d help him…he just…” she trailed off; pursing her lips her eyes tearing up.

“It’s okay,” Ian said as he hugged Mandy, “I’ll get him out.”

“Mick,” Ian said as he jiggled the doorknob. “Mickey, I’m back home. Are you going to let me in?”

There was no response from the other side.

“Mickey c’mon,” Ian said as he knocked on the door, “Let me in I’m going to help you, remember you promised you’d let me help you.”

“I fucking stink,” he heard Mickey’s voice from the other side, “Go away, I don’t want your help!”

Ian bit the inside of his cheek, “I already told you that I don’t care,” he said as he tried the door knob again, “Open up please.”

“No, go away! Just fucking leave me alone Gallagher!” Mickey shouted, “You have fucking better things to do than to stay here to wipe my ass! Fuck off!”

Ian couldn’t stop himself from tearing up at that. After all this time Mickey still didn’t trust him to stay with him till the end despite all that they’d already been through so far. “Mickey,” he said leaning his head against the door, his voice shaky and choked up, “How can you say that! You know that I love you! I don’t have anything else better to do because you’re the best thing that I have and I’m going to take care of you no matter what. You can crap your pants a thousand times, piss like a fucking dog for all I care but I’m going to fucking stay at your side and whatever you say, you can’t chase me away you hear?” he said as he rapped on the door, “You’re _never_ going to have to see me leave your side. Not until the very end.”

There was silence. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door and then a soft thud against the door.

“I hate you Gallagher, you’re such a bitch,” he heard Mickey whisper on the other side of the door.

Ian smiled feeling the tears prickling and falling from his eyes, he sniffled, “Open up the door already Mick, lemme help you.”

Mickey was leaning his head against the door, hand resting on the doorknob. He was sure Ian was on the other side doing the same and his heart was heavy. Separated by a wooden door…he thought…just like how they were separated by his fucking illness.

He hated being a burden to Ian. At first it had been embarrassing as fuck to have someone to help you clean up after yourself, then it’d just become hard to watch. Why should Ian even be helping him when the redhead could be going out, leading a completely normal life and leaving him alone?

“Ian…” he said, pursing his lips.

“Yeah Mick?” he heard the redhead answer him and he smiled to himself, oh how he’d miss that voice when he was lying cold in his grave.

“I’m sorry…you’re not a bitch…and…I love you…” he muttered as he unlocked the door, stepping back so that Ian could enter.

“You stupid asshole,” Ian cried as he enveloped Mickey in a hug. He’d become considerably thinner in the month that had followed, “I love you and I’m never going to leave you.”

* * *

Ian was shaken awake in the middle of the night; he turned, still sleepy and confused as he looked to Mickey who was lying next to him now. When he realised whom it was he forced himself to wake up, turning on the bedside lamp.

“What is it?” Ian asked as he turned on his side, looking at Mickey, hooked up to an oxygen tank.

Cool, slim fingers curled around his wrist, “Let’s get married,” he said.

“Married?” Ian asked furrowing his brows.

Mickey nodded, moving his head as he turned to look properly at Ian, “I want to marry you…” he whispered, his voice all wheezy, the sound rattling through his chest.

“Okay,” Ian said as he grinned. Mickey kept saying odd things these days; it was like his thoughts were all just floating around inside his head. So Ian always just took everything with a pinch of salt. Just the other day Mickey had asked for a new beanie because he’d thought that it would be nice to have one to wear – even though it was summer. He’d chucked it soon after that because the colour was not what he’d wanted.

“No I mean it Ian…” Mickey said as he tightened his grip on Ian’s hand, “I want to marry you.”

“Okay, we’ll get married,” Ian said taking the hint that this was Mickey’s serious decision. “When do you want to do it?” Ian asked as he reached for the notepad that he now kept on the bedside table to write down everything, it had become his sort of journal to keep track of Mickey.

“I don’t want something big…just our families…we could go to the beach…” Mickey said as he smiled at that thought.

Ian ran a hand through his hair writing it down, “We can’t go to the beach Mick, you…you can’t…” his eyes flicked to the wheelchair in the corner of the room. The little light from the bedside lamp revealing the wheelchair that had now become a part of both their lives.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Fuck that piece of trash,” he said, waving a tired hand at it, “I want to get married on the beach with you, Gallagher. It’s a dying man’s wish, grant me that.”

Ian tried hard not to cry at that. He hated when Mickey kept saying that phrase  _‘it’s a dying man’s wish’_  it hurt enough to know that Mickey only had a number of days left. To be reminded even more of that every single day…it was torture, but he tried to never let it get to him.

“Alright, we’ll get married on the beach then. Since you asked for it,” Ian said as he pressed a kiss to Mickey’s forehead. “I’ll arrange everything,” he assured Mickey as he set the notepad back on the bedside table, turning out the lights. “Now lets get some sleep,” he said as he settled down next to Mickey.

He felt Mickey’s fingers creeping into his hand, intertwining their fingers together, “Ian Milkovich. Ian  _fucking_ Milkovich, I love you.”

Ian lightly squeezed Mickey’s hand back. He didn’t answer because his voice would betray every emotion that he was feeling right now. In the darkness he stared up at the ceiling, tears falling from his eyes, and wetting the tear soaked pillow once again. His thumb stroked tenderly over Mickey’s hand.

_Please, god or whoever is listening, please please please let Mickey get better…please…_

The tears trickled down the side of his face, with his free hand Ian swiped away at it. He never cried in front of Mickey, never, because he had to be strong for the both of them. He only ever cried at night in the darkness. That was the only time that he gave himself up to the hopelessness of this situation, letting the sadness and the overwhelming grief swallow him up whole. He would stay awake for hours, and then finally fall asleep after he’d had a good cry only to be shaken awake by Mickey who needed help to do something. But despite all that I didn’t mind, he didn’t complain, because everything he did was out of love.

* * *

The day after they’d gotten married, on the beach, Mickey in a wheelchair, Ian wheeling him down the makeshift isle, Mickey passed away in the hospital. Ian broke down like never before. Mandy had never seen him cry so much, or act so desperately as the nurses and doctors tried to pull him away. He was clawing, kicking and screaming as the dragged him away from Mickey’s body.

“Don’t you fucking dare cover his body! Don’t you fucking dare!” he yelled as the doctors pulled the white sheets up over Mickey’s face.

“Time of death 3.17 PM,” the doctor said.

“Motherfuckers you didn’t even try to save him!” Ian screamed, “You fucking useless pieces of shit!” he sobbed as he shook the nurses off, staggering to the side of the wall where he crumbled into a messy pile of tears and sobbing. Mandy was crying too and she went to Ian’s side, pulling the redhead into her arms as she hugged him, rocking them back and forth.

“He’s fine,” Mandy whispered as she gently pat Ian’s head, “He’s not hurting anymore. Ian you did everything you could. You gave him everything.”

“I love him…” Ian cried as he trembled and sobbed into Mandy’s shoulder, “I love him…I love him and they took him away…he’s mine…I love him…”

“I know…I know you do Ian, we all do,” Mandy cooed.

“They didn’t even try to save him…”

“There was nothing they could do to save him Ian…it would only lengthen Mickey’s pain…”

“Mickey…” Ian cried, his throat clenching up at the name. He cried even more as Mandy comforted him.

He would never forget this day. Never.

* * *

Three days later they were all gathered around a plot of land, watching as Mickey’s coffin was lowered into the ground. Ian could barely cry anymore even if he wanted to, there was no more tears that he could shed. He’d not slept a wink since Mickey’s passing and his eyes were heavy. All he could do was lie awake in bed, lying in Mickey’s spot, his face buried in the raven’s pillow as he breathed in his scent. He didn’t want it to fade or disappear ever.

His thumb ran over the simple band on his ring finger and he felt his throat tightening again. He didn’t even know if he would be able to speak the eulogy that he’d wrote without breaking down again.

“Hey, it’s your turn,” Fiona whispered as she touched him lightly on his arm.

Ian nodded, reaching into his pocket for the piece of paper.

“D’you want me to read it for you?” Lip asked.

He shook his head as he steeled himself to read it, unfolding the piece of paper. His eyes scanned the words and taking a deep breath he began to read:

_‘You can’t be fucking serious! That doctor was a fake ass bogus fucking crap. That was what Mickey told me when he was first diagnosed. He refused to belief any of it…’_

Mandy smiled a little that was so like Mickey…she continued listening.

_‘He was always a fighter right to the end. And there’s so many more things that I would have wanted to share with him. So many more things that we wanted to do together. I kept a book of things that Mickey wanted to do you see and in the days before his death, he said some of the weirdest, sweetest things ever. He wanted to fly kites with me, wanted to go diving with me, wanted to spray paint every wall in town with our names. It’s cruel that this sickness had to happen to him, cruel that he was torn from me so soon…’_

All the while Mandy watched as Ian read from his piece of paper. Everyone that had come to her brother’s funeral was crying now at Ian’s words. And she couldn’t help but to cry too when Ian read the next part.

_‘One night he woke up; he told me he wanted to marry me. I thought it was just another one of his ‘what I want to do with Ian’ things so I wrote it down in the book. But Mickey said that he meant it for real. He wanted to marry me. He always loved to tell me to ‘grant a dying man his last wish’ I sorta hated him for that, but I did it anyway._

_That same week later I became Ian Milkovich. We were married on the beach, because he wanted us to get married on the beach despite the wheelchair and all. He always thought that I would abandon him…always thought that I would leave him. Well Mick, if you’re here now, you’ll know that I never abandoned you, not for one moment. I’ll never ever forget you.’_

* * *

A week after Mickey’s passing Ian was still clearing up Mickey’s things when a letter with his name on it fell out from one of the comic books. Ian sat down on the bed, picked up the letter and read it.

_‘My dearest Ian Gallagher ~~I never use such words but I guess I should in this letter~~_

_I think I’ll write this whilst I still have my sanity and I’m not a blabbering mess of shit and piss. I know I’m a burden and all and I’m probably the worst patient that you will ever have. But I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking care of me. For being so patient with me and watching over me each and every hour of the day like a hawk._

_I never thought that I would have to let you see me like this, so weak so broken and so fucking fragile. Well at least not until we were older anyway. But then this illness came and…and it changed me. It made me appreciate even more of every little moment that I shared with you, made me know how lucky I was to have you with me when you could be spending time somewhere else and not cleaning up after all the messes that I made._

_You are a fighter Ian, a strong, brave fighter. You’re my soldier and you helped me to carry on when I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. You were always there as my pillar of strength, always supporting me. You never once showed your weakness, never once cried in front of me. But I know that you cried at night. It was always at night. You thought that I would be asleep, that I wouldn’t know, well I do know._

_I know how you cry yourself to sleep at night. How you would whisper a short prayer asking the universe to give me back my life every night. I just left you to it, because I knew that this was your way of coping with all this, with all my nonsense. I keep asking myself…if things were different, if I didn’t have this sickness would we be any different?_

_The answer is probably a no. Because I would still want to have you in my life. I’d still want to marry you and make you my Ian Milkovich. I’d still want to try to annoy you and make you smile and laugh. I’d still want to be by your side every day and call you a bitch. I guess in a way this sickness just puts everything on the fast track. We’ll be married soon; I’m still trying to ask you…_

_Anyway, the point is, by the time you’re reading this I’m probably dead. So I hope you had a good eulogy prepared at my ceremony because I assure you my ghost would have been there listening. You’re also probably Ian Milkovich by now, my husband. I like that. I actually like the thought of that and the sound of your name. Now I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life moping about you hear me? You don’t have to keep yourself tied down with grief. I want you to move on and be happy._

_That is an order okay Gallagher?_

_You are to move on and be happy._

_Remember me in your dreams, keep me in your heart, but move on with your life._

_Be happy and know that I will be watching over you from heaven, waiting until you return to my side._

_Yours forever,_

_Mickey Milkovich_

_P.s, this letter is really sappy and mushy, probably the sappiest and mushiest that I will ever write._

_P.p.s I love you forever Ian. Forever and ever.’_


End file.
